


in the sound of the words

by Rayellah



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayellah/pseuds/Rayellah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin's heart jumps and scrapes like his boots scraped against the ground, but now he's <i>on</i> the ground.</p><p>It's cold, frigid even, against his body, even through the armour.</p><p>It is nothing like an embrace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the sound of the words

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a stream-of-consciousness rambly thing for Kíli's death, so I thought I'd do one for Thorin. It's a bit angsty. Okay, more than a _bit_ (considering it contains canonical character death).

It feels like a long walk.

It _isn't,_ but it gives him time to think.

 

\--

 

Fíli had walked right into trouble-- said _go_ , said _get out of here_. But. Thorin couldn't just do that. It seemed Kíli couldn't either and though Thorin lost sight of his younger nephew, he knows the odds aren't great.

Thorin has a lot of blood on his hands. Right now, most of it is his (and there's a joke in there somewhere, maybe, or there would be if Thorin were any good at jokes). That some of it belongs to his nephews means that Thorin doesn't really want to keep fighting the pain, fighting the need to _stop_.

Step after step.

Boots dragging against ice.

The smell of blood (most of it his), heavy in the air and feeling like a vision from some kind of distant god.

 

\--

 

He'd killed the pale orc. Thorin _did_. So. That's one problem solved. He sees eagles. Where's he going to go now? Thorin has never been fond of _running_. Not that he can do a lot of running right now. He can barely drag himself across the ice.

How many of the company survived?

Some of them, surely. Maybe even most of them. Bilbo Baggins? Hopefully. He wants to see him one last time, before he dies.

(He feels, now, like he owes the burglar an apology.

But he can't recall just why.

Because of the blood loss, maybe. Probably. Definitely.)

Thorin will figure it out, maybe, when and if the world stops spinning. He wants to collapse, but he can't, not yet. He has to drag himself away from Azog the Defiler. He will not die near that thing.

He's bleeding. But that's okay. It's his own blood. Mostly.

 

\--

 

He's unarmed, sword stuck in orc and ice. This isn't a good feeling. If someone attacks him, he knows he'll collapse under that weight like a person far weaker. Like paper.

Like one of Bilbo Baggins' books.

 _Something is wrong with you, Thorin,_ Bilbo had said. _You're like the dragon, you're **becoming** the dragon, don't be the dragon or else you'll_

Wait. No. That wasn't what he said at all.

Thorin is unarmed and bleeding and his thoughts are muddled. He's stumbling.

Thorin is terrible at finishing a quest, it seems. Thorin will put himself back together. His steel muscles. His stone ribs. His now-sluggish heart.

Blood seeps though the stab wound and ruins his clothing and that is the biggest vulnerability of all-- bigger than his empty hands, his empty pockets, his empty swordsheath, his empty veins. He is going to die alone, bleeding the bright red of his heart onto the ice.

 

\--

 

Fíli had told them to run-- said a lot in that word (resignation, courage, shock, resolve) but what Thorin remembers through the pain, remembers with clarity, is the way his nephew's voice faltered. So. That was probably the worst of it.

(Never mind that Thorin knows fear the same way he knows loss, his two most familiar friends, the only ones who have nevernever left. Never mind that he now knows the sound of Fíli's death-- never mind that he all but commanded his sister's son to die.

Never mind that his own voice, if he could find even a single word, would be shaking with _regret_.

He does not regret.

He can't.

It's done.)

Thorin should stop thinking about his nephew, maybe, probably, but with his head spinning and his body one big heartbeat of pain he is finding it difficult to focus on anything else. An orc killed Fíli killed Kíli, killed nephews, killed. _Killed_.

It's a lie that Thorin is of pain. He is that, but the stab wound knots the rhythm of it, changing it from _ba-bum_ to _my-fault_. _my-fault my-fault. my-fault._

Each beat an accusation.

Thorin wants his sword. Thorin wants _a_ sword. Thorin wants the stab wound to stop throbbing so he can find what's left of his company. Thorin wants to find his burglar and apologise to him. Thorin _wants_. And isn't that the greatest of all his problems? Want?

Thorin wants. He wants to recall why his last memory of Bilbo Baggins was the hobbit looking at him like he was not himself, like he was something else.

Really, they all did.

He can't remember why.

It's probably the blood loss.

It's all right, though.

When he finds the hobbit he can explain.

 _Then again,_ he thinks, as his breath stutter-stops, as he chokes, _maybe not_.

 

\--

 

The sunshine is something like the                              end of a tunnel. It's all very bright and clean and Thorin wants to cry, a little bit.

(Maybe if he did, another orc would arrive to finally, _finally_ , finish the job.)

Dwarves are hardy. Dwarves can take hits. Dwarves can bleed and bleed and be okay after. They can do battle, over and over and over and over and over and

Thorin says _sorry_ to his father, _sorry_ to his ancestors, _sorry_ to Bilbo Baggins. He is ashamed, a little bit, for living. He is ashamed, too, for the fact that he's dying. Because he won't live much longer. His burglar would be ashamed of him for dying, maybe, but he doesn't see Bilbo nearby so he can't ask him. So. He will carry the shame and regret for both of them.

He'll try to keep living anyway, though. He's selfish like that. Thorin _wants_.

 

\--

 

_Find Master Baggins. Apologise to Master Baggins. Embrace Master Baggins. Protect Master Baggins. Find FíliKíli. Never let go of KíliFíli again. Kill orcs. Kill elves. Kill men. Kill everyone. Kill yourself. Love Bilbo. Kill Bilbo. Love Bilbo. Apologise to the burglar. love the burglar kill master baggins love bilbo baggins kill bilbo love master baggins kill bilbo love bilbo kill bilbo love bilbo love bilbo lovebilbolovebilbolovebilbo._

Ask for Bilbo Baggins' forgiveness.

 

\--

 

When the hobbit appears in his line of sight, Thorin asks for forgiveness as humbly as he knows how, like his mother taught him when he was very small. To part as friends. Part well. _Get up, Thorin._ He tries to look sincere but he thinks the effect is ruined a bit by the blood in his throat, the blood in his clothing. He wants to say: it's Azog's blood too. He cannot quite manage it.

Instead he says, _go back to your books_. Beause that seems more pressing.

Bilbo says something like _don't you dare_ but it's louder, somehow, or maybe that's just blood loss. Bilbo is touching him, just a bit, and it's not an embrace, but it could be, maybe, later.

There's still time.

Isn't there?

Thorin's heart jumps and scrapes like his boots scraped against the ground, but now he's _on_ the ground.

It's cold, frigid even, against his body, even through the armour.

It is nothing like an embrace.

 

\--

 

 

 

 

(the light at)

(light?)

(light)

(Master Baggins--)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He does not wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it comes  
> The unavoidable sun  
> Where's my head?  
> And what the hell have I done?  
> And you know  
> I don't remember a thing  
> I don't remember a thing  
> \-- The Sun; The Naked and Famous


End file.
